


All Those Shadows (Almost) Killed Your Light

by aspiringenjolras



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aka how we arrived at the mid-credits scene from the end of civil war, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Mid-Credits Scene, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, It completely follows the constraint of canon I promis, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Captain America Civil War (movie) Mid-Credits Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspiringenjolras/pseuds/aspiringenjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has two options. Neither of them are good. But there's one that's better-- and even if it's not going to make him happy, does it matter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Those Shadows (Almost) Killed Your Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first Marvel fic, but the idea for it just sprang out at me after I watched Civil War a second time, and I couldn't stop writing. This is set between the end of the main action of Civil War, and the mid-credits scene. Yeah, that one. Anyway, yes, the title is from a Taylor Swift song. I heard it for the first time in years the other day and somehow my brain connected it with this fic and the idea wouldn't leave.

In hindsight, Steve probably should’ve been grateful that King T’Challa still didn’t want to kill Bucky on the spot. Even when the Black Panther learned the truth about who was responsible for his father’s death, Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if he still wanted the Winter Soldier’s head. King T’Chaka aside, he still had the deaths of hundreds of people on his conscience. 

_ Perhaps _ , Steve thought,  _ it’s because Bucky  _ has  _ a conscience that he’s being shown mercy.  _

For the King of Wakanda,  _ mercy  _ was a strong word.

The compound, hidden deep in the jungles of Wakanda, wasn’t actually unlike the Avengers compound at all. It was fully operational, large and liveable, and secure. The only difference was that it was practically unknown to the rest of the country, let alone the world. And even if some unfortunate adventurer did stumble across the bordered territory, the armed guards would be enough cause for them to turn their backs and keep their lips sealed about whatever they may or may not have seen. It was the only place in the world where Bucky would be safe from all those who might come after him-- and Steve realized quickly that this meant they had no say over what came next. 

For the first few days, Steve and Bucky were mostly left alone. They were free to roam the compound as they wished, although there was no mistaking the wary gleam in the eyes of the guards, the way their hands jumped to their weapons if even for a moment when the Winter Soldier passed by. Steve was hopeful that they would eventually be able to overcome that fear, but he always had been dangerously optimistic. 

It took those first few days for Bucky to get used to living without his arm-- not just the sensation of missing a limb (he was strangely used to it actually), but the feeling he described to Steve as being exposed, vulnerable. Helpless. Steve tried to imagine what suddenly losing all his enhancement would be like.  _ You’d probably shrivel up and die of old age _ , a voice in his head told him. He stopped imagining it after that. 

The first time Bucky tried to run-- a guard had shouted loudly at something down the hall and it startled him-- he nearly fell over, unbalanced. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, but the humor was gone in an instant when he saw Bucky’s face. Ashen, desperate… Steve couldn’t stand seeing him that way. 

It was about a week later that Steve sent a package to Tony-- a letter and a cell phone. Once he knew it had arrived at Stark tower, he left for the Raft Prison. Bucky had wanted to come, but T’Challa, who was wary enough about Steve going, blatantly refused to let him leave. He gave a good enough reason; it wasn’t as if Bucky could be much help without his metal arm. But that was only the surface-level explanation. It may have been good enough for Bucky, but Steve knew it was a lot more serious than a medical concern. 

There was no problem breaking the rest of the Avengers out of jail. Sam, Clint, Scott, and Wanda were all relieved to see him, and Tony had oh-so-graciously denied assistance to the prison wardens when they contacted him. Within an hour they were in the air and heading back to New York City. Upon their arrival at the Avengers compound, the others begged Steve to stay with them. And they had a point. He’d be able to rectify his mistakes, perhaps fall back on the Sokovia Accords.  _ You don’t have to keep running, Steve. You don’t have to be a vigilante forever. Come home, Cap. Come  _ _ home _ . 

Steve wasn’t sure he knew where home was anymore. 1930s Brooklyn? 1940s Germany? Or 2016, in a building with a handful of other superheros, some of whom had tried to kill him only a few days before. In the early hours of the morning the next day, he was gone. Only Natasha knew where he was going, and she wouldn’t tell. If home could be a person and not a place, then Steve knew where he had to go. Bucky greeted him in the doorway of his room and they hugged for a long time. 

“Are your friends safe?” Bucky asked.

“As safe as any of us ever are,” Steve replied, and then was quiet. 

“They’ve been talking, while you were gone,” Bucky said after a minute.

_ Oh.  _ “Yeah? ‘Bout what, Buck?”

Bucky suddenly looked a lot more tense, he rocked back and forth on his heels uncomfortably before saying anything. “About what to do with me,” he finally managed, looking like every word pained him. “Because I’m dangerous. And there are some that still think I’d be better off dead. It’s only his highness’s graciousness that’s keeping me alive in the first place.”

_ I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve _ . He could hear Bucky’s words from before clearly in his mind now, and he grabbed his friend by the shoulders, looking him square in the eye. “You’re not some… monster that needs to be locked up. That’s not why you’re here. It’s for protection.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, a sad smile on his face. It was the kind of sympathetic smile he used to give Steve back in Brooklyn when he knew his best friend wanted to do something too far out of his reach. “Whose protection?”

Before Steve could request an audience with T’Challa, the Wakandan King sought him out first. They sat down over dinner. T’Challa started to say, “we need to talk about your friend.”

Steve said, “If you’re going to talk about Bucky, he should be here too.”

T’Challa sighed. “I know how important Barnes is to you,” and where had Steve heard those words before? “We’re not going to let anything happen to him. You know he’s safe here.”

Steve did know that. “So what’s there to talk about?”

T’Challa stared back at him evenly, and it seemed like his eyes were boring through Steve’s soul. “Many Wakandan people are uncomfortable with Mr. Barnes’ presence here. They fear he could become dangerous. That he could turn into the Winter Soldier again right before their eyes. I know, I know,” he said as Steve opened his mouth to protest. “Most of these fears are null. I have explained to my people why this is not a concern. Of course, they are understandably wary, but hopefully they know they’re in no danger. However…” He rubbed his temples and leaned forward seriously. “Some concerns have cropped up that I cannot ignore. Wakanda is a closed country, and the borders of this compound are protected even more. But that doesn’t mean people won’t try and come for him. As my country still attempts to reorganize itself after my father’s death, we cannot afford to dedicate defending our borders from enemies we would not have if not for him. The  _ Taifa Ngao—   _ our Council of Elders— met while you were away doing your prison break.” Steve looked down and T’Challa smiled. “I admire your dedication to your friends,” he went on. “Your Avengers, and your Bucky.”

The compliment didn’t move Steve the way it once might have. “What did the Council have to say?”

“The  _ Taifa Ngao  _ presented two possible options. The first is to create a more enclosed space for Barnes to live. This would make his protection easier. Should an enemy get past our outer guards into the compound, we’d be able to center the defense around one small area.”

Steve crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “How small are we talking?” T’Challa arched an eyebrow, and Steve was suddenly aware of how defensive he was being. What happened to Bucky in the end wasn’t Steve’s decision to make, he should know that. He  _ did  _ know that, but that didn’t stop him from balking at the idea of Bucky being confined to a room, like prison.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t think of it as an imprisonment. The plan we’re considering gives him a section of the Northern wing— a bedroom, bathroom, general living space that includes kitchen appliances, some gym equipment. He’d have about a thousand square feet of space. It’s liveable,” T’Challa said, seeing Steve’s expression.

“It’s  _ house arrest _ ,” Steve said. “No.”

T’Challa stood, walking over to the window and looking out at the jungle surrounding them. “You may not like the other option either.”

Steve stayed sitting. “Which is?”

“Until we figure out how to both ensure Barnes’ safety and repair his arm, he can go back into cryostasis. That way we can ensure that he is no danger to himself or others, and we can easily defend him from those who may seek to do harm.”

Now Steve stood, pushing his chair back violently, slamming his hands down on the table.  _ “No.” _

T’Challa turned around and smiled sadly. “Those are your options. But in the end, it’s up to Barnes.” 

 

***

 

“Makes sense,” Bucky said when Steve told him what T’Challa had said, and Steve was sure he’d heard wrong. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you just said that this insane plan ‘ _ makes sense _ ’.”

“I did.”

Steve started pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists as he went. “Why didn’t he tell you this before me?”  _ It’s your decision, after all. Your life you’d be throwing away _ .

“He did.”

Now Steve stopped, rounding on his friend. “Excuse me?”

Bucky smiled grimly. “I told you they had been talking. Did you not assume I knew that because King T’Challa told me that himself?” 

Steve fell silent, sinking down into a chair. “I guess I thought you were talking about rumors.”

“Of course there are rumors. How could there not be? But T’Challa does a good job of quelling them. He’s been very kind. And supportive.” Bucky looked down at Steve, some of his old smile creeping back onto his face. “You too. I really can’t thank you enough. You didn’t need to do… all of this. For me.”

“...’Course I did,” Steve said. “I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line, remember?” That barely got a response from Bucky, so Steve changed the subject. “Since you’ve known about this for so long, have you… thought about what you’re going to do?”

“Neither option sounds super great does it?” Bucky asked, eyes cast to the ground. “I don’t know what I should do.”

Steve stood up again and walked over to him, a hand on his arm, smiling warmly, even if that warmth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever you pick is fine with me. I’ll support you. But whatever it is, it should be what  _ you  _ want. For your own good. Not anyone else’s.” The ferocity in Steve’s voice hinted that maybe he already knew what Bucky was going to choose, even subconsciously. 

“Right,” said Bucky, and Steve had a  _ very _ bad feeling about this. 

 

***

 

The next evening, Steve found Bucky sitting outside on a bench by a small pond. He was sheltered by the thick underbrush and large heavy leaves that drooped down around him. He cradled his arm stump with his good hand and looked down. Staring back up at him was the same handsome face Steve had known all his life, but it was framed by curtains of long scraggly hair, stubble that had grown out too much to be neat, and dull, expressionless eyes. Bucky didn’t flinch when Steve came to stand beside him, the reflection of the taller man appearing suddenly in the water. The contrast was astounding, Steve realized, both between the two of them, and how they looked next to each other before the war. Bucky used to be the impressive one— tall, well-built, commanding. Steve had always been scrawny, pathetic-looking: an all around mess.  _ How things have changed _ , he thought, looking at the two of them side by side. Despite his physical size, Bucky looked very small hunched over himself, the light gone from his eyes. Steve wished he could do something, but he couldn’t think of what he could possibly say that would help his friend. Finally, Steve simply placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Buck.”

“The Council met again today,” Bucky said, otherwise not acknowledging the greeting. “I went to give them my decision.”

“And?” Steve pressed, fully aware that he wasn’t going to get the full story from Bucky without prying a little bit. 

“I’m going back under.” 

The words hit Steve like a blow to the chest, and in fact they were. He could already feel his heart aching. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what; there weren’t words to describe what he was feeling, or that even did justice to all the things he wanted to say. So he let Bucky keep talking, grateful for every moment he got to hear his friend’s voice.

“I can’t survive cooped up in something the size of a new york city studio apartment for the  _ rest of my life _ , Steve. Never going outside? Never getting fresh air? I’d be bored out of my mind. Not to mention, 1000 square feet may be livable for a normal person, but if I want to get my strength back, I’m going to need to start working out. Moving around. Sparring, anything. Maybe even learning to fight without my arm… eventually… anyway.” Bucky’s voice almost sounded wistful, but it hardened, and he clenched his fist. “It’s not like I can do that in such a small space.”

Steve frowned. “Buck, if that’s what you’re worried about, I’m sure we can work out  _ something…  _ recreation time…” He trailed off at the expression on his friend’s face. Bucky had finally looked up at him, and he just looked defeated. “For what it’s worth… it wouldn’t kill you to take a break from combat…” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

“Listen, Steve. Even if I was under house arrest, it’s not like everyone would be totally comfortable with it. I’d still be facing backlash. Distrust. These are my options. I’m not saying I like either of them, but this is it. I’d rather stay asleep and out of people’s way than locked up somewhere and still have people worry that I’m going to attack them.”

Steve would’ve rather Bucky just not look so goddamn sad. “But is this what’s going to make your  _ happy _ ?”

Bucky went back to looking at his reflection. “Does it matter?”

 

***

 

When Steve walked into the cryo room the next day, Bucky was seated on a table, a few doctors fussing over him. He was wearing all white, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen before. He hovered off to the side, waiting for the right moment to approach his friend. One of the doctors caught his eye and she ducked her head, stepping away to check on the state of the cryochamber. Steve went up to Bucky slowly. 

“You sure about this?” he asked for the last time. As if Bucky was going to change his mind. As if they’d  _ let _ him change his mind.

“I can’t trust my own mind,” Bucky replied, smiling sadly up at Steve as if it was the simplest concept in the world. Steve could see 70 years of pain behind that smile, and he realized in a rush just how  _ tired  _ Bucky must be. Maybe that was why he didn’t mind going back into stasis. Bucky cast his eyes back down as he went on. “So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing. For everybody.”

_ Except you.  _ But Steve couldn’t argue with that, not really. What was he supposed to say? So he cupped Bucky’s cheek in his hand and smiled at him, a smile that he hoped was more confident than Bucky’s was.  _ I’m gonna miss you, pal.  _ There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it was coming out. Luckily, Bucky seemed to understand. But he couldn't say anything else either. A doctor came and led Bucky over to his cryochamber. He went quietly, without much protest, but Steve could see that he was nervous. He wondered if the doctors had sedated him first. Probably. 

When they finally iced him, Steve couldn't watch. It reminded him too much of Bucky’s past. Of his own past. Once Bucky had closed his eyes and couldn't tell that Steve was gone, he slipped out of the room.

T’Challa met him outside. He must’ve been waiting. If he was going to ask if the procedure had happened, one glance at Steve’s expression was all he needed to tell. Together, they walked silently over to the window, looking out over the green jungle canopy. 

“Thank you for this,” Steve said, breaking the silence. 

“Your friend and my father… they were both victims,” T’Challa replied calmly. Steve didn’t respond; just continued staring out the window. T’Challa continued speaking gravely. “If I can help one of them find peace…” The sentence went unfinished but Steve understood the implied ending.  _ It will have been worth it. I will be content.  _

After a beat, Steve went on, voicing the concern he knew had been hanging over everyone’s heads since their arrival. “You know if they find out he’s here…” He finally looked at T’Challa, his eyes searching for some reassurance in the man’s gaze. “They’ll come for him.” 

A small smile almost seemed to tug at the corners of T’Challa’s lips and he turned once again to gaze out over his dense jungle. Both their eyes came to rest on the large Black Panther statue at the front of the compound. “Let them try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I wasn't able to get it seriously beta'd, so if you have any notes as far as something not lining up with canon, feel free to leave me a comment and I'll try to resolve it. I'm a Marvel newbie, so I can't always guarantee 100% accuracy, although I try to do my research first. Comments of any kind are more than welcome, and actually encouraged. I'd like to keep writing in this universe, about what comes next, but I require reader feedback to fuel me, so if you enjoyed your read, leave a kudos. If you're really glad you took a few minutes out of your day to sit and read my fic, let me know in the comments. Thank you all and I wish you the best with minimal pain from your favs.


End file.
